Sick Like the Fruits of a Sinner
by Narakaromaru
Summary: Adria was slowly loosing grip of herself as she stumbled into her apartment beaten and broken, mentally physically and emotionally...(DracoHarryAdria{me}but it portends to be a good fic...R&R please)


Chapter One: The horse you charged in upon…

"_Dear Isobel I hope your well, and what you've done is right. _

_Oh it's been such hell I wish you well, I hope your safe tonight._

_It's been a long day comin', how long will it last when it's last day leavin'. I'm helpin' it pass by loving you more."_

_-Dido, Isobel _

The tall form of a skinny, lithe teenage girl staggered in through the moonlit doorway of the small apartment in the slums of Vancouver, British Columbia. She swayed for a few minutes, trying to let her blurred eyesight adjust to the dim lighting of her apartment. Her knees suddenly gave out beneath her and she collapsed against the wall, struggling to regain her balance and her fast fading consciousness. Desperately she grabbed onto the silvered door handle in an attempt to haul her aching body up off the bare floor. She managed to upright herself and she flicked the light switch to her right, flooding with light the small corridor that led into the main room of the near miniscule living quarters. She winced as the light hit her sore eyes and blinded her momentarily, when her vision cleared she noticed that where she had touched the faceplate of the light switch and the switch itself were both smeared with a dripping crimson colored substance. She leaned against the wall for support as she limped down the hallway. Every single step she took made her very flesh and bones scream in agony. The bathroom door stood ajar not but 3 feet away but the girl had to stop at this point, keeling over in pain she let the red liquid drip into her eyes as her broken ribs seared with pain from the effort of walking. Gasping and moaning, she crawled on her hands and knees the rest of the way into the bathroom. Grabbing the edged of the toilet, she hauled herself up to her knees. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook her head, her stomach up heaved and she threw her head forwards into the bowl of the toilet and vomited into the lavatory what little contents her stomach had held for the whole day. Shivering slightly, she managed to pull herself back up and then leant heavily on the standing sink. She watched as her blood dripped from her head and into the ivory colored sink, looking up into the mirror she didn't recognize who was staring back at her with red streaked eyes.

The centimeter wide jagged slash began on her forehead and cut down across the bridge of her nose and ended at the top of her cheekbone, the gaping flesh stared back at her as if it were grotesquely smiling at her. She had a black right eye that made her look like a punk rock queen at a concert, there was massive bruising to her neck and shoulder where she had narrowly, but not fully, escaped being curb stomped by one of the four people she had fought. Her left arm was bleeding slowly from a laceration to her upper arm from the keen edge of a butterfly knife that one of the fighters had wielded against her, the blood coursed down her arm like a gruesome river, reminding the girl she was not indestructible. She tried to turn on the cold water tap only to find that her wrist was as she thought, dislocated and her last index knuckle and second middle knuckle were swollen and scraped raw. She looked up at herself in the mirror again and mumbled to herself through swollen lips,

"Done a number on yourself this time girl…"

Using her less injured left hand, she turned on the cold water tap successfully and began to splash that water onto her afflicted face. Gasping at the stinging shock of the water hitting the opened flesh of her face, she watched the water flow off of her skin and back into the sink now tinted pink from her bloody skin. She cleaned the caking blood off of her arm and wrapped it tightly with a white bandage after she had cleaned out the grit that was imbedded in the gash on her face. Her legs were screaming at her as were her muscles, she had exerted her body's reserves in this fight, eating poorly had deteriorated the condition of her muscles, as lithe and corded as they were, they had lost some of their former strength and prowess. She sighed loudly and hiccoughed as she remembered her broken ribs. The lead opponent had managed to bring her down and repeatedly kicked the girl's exposed side. Never before had she ever been in a pit fight that was fought in a totally unfair situation. The guys had crushed, cracked, broken, ground, stomped and massacred the young fighter until she lay unconscious at the bottom of the pit that was dug out in the middle of the overgrown parking lot. The only fight she had ever lost was this one, and she had paid dearly for her brash decision to fight in the Pit Rage. She had fought guys before and had won, she was renowned for winning almost anything she started. _Almost anything._ The words echoed in her head. Weapons were allowed but she had preferred to fight without the aid of a steel chain or a knife. She tried to fight the way she had been taught to, but she had let her form go to waste once she moved into the slums of the eastside of Vancouver. She worked in a bar whose manager had ripped her off of her paycheck more then once. Thus the state of her health deteriorated once she had to start to pay the overdue bills for hydro and gas and didn't have enough money left to buy much food.

Her mental health was also beginning to deteriorate at a slow but steady pace. She had begun to have strange dreams over the past two months, red gleaming eyes would penetrate the deepest of her meditations and slumber, rendering her helpless as the dark shadow tried to take over her mind. She would wake up in the dead of the night shivering and lathered in an icy sweat, feeling the one emotion that she despised the most. Fear. It had dwelt in her mind for the past two months, every time she turned a corner on the way to work she felt this horrible feeling of dread and fear. It had grown stronger until she was nearly afraid to turn the next street corner in fear of coming face to face with the man red eyes. The lack of sleep had made her become like a zombie. Her skin had become more pale, her eyes rimmed with black and her energy sinking to an all time low. She knew had to get out of that place, there was no hope for her here at all. She was going to lose everything soon.

She flushed the toilet and the refuse from her stomach was washed away, she pulled the cover seat down and sat on it. Shaking slightly, she investigated her dislocated wrist, wincing at times when she jarred it by accident. She determined that it was dislocated without any fracturing, how it had happened, she couldn't remember, some amnesia had occurred when she woke up. She had no memory of half of the fight, so far she had managed to sift only a few fragments of memory out of the darkness that she remembered. Grimacing as she limped out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to find a wooden spoon and a bottle of extra strength acetaminophen caplets. Standing in the dingy kitchen, she filled a glass with tap water and undid the childproof cap on the drug bottle, she popped five of the pills into her mouth, she had begun to become unaffected by the painkillers as she used them more and more. She needed now at least five or six in order to make her numb from the pain that so often wracked her body. Hobbling back to the bathroom she sat down on the toilet again and put her afflicted hand in between her knees and stuck the handle of the wooden spoon in her mouth and clamped her teeth down on it, bracing herself for the upcoming pain. Securing her injured hand between her knees more firmly she took a deep breath and exhaled, and another one. Quickly, she yanked her shoulder back and clutched her hand between her knees in an iron grip. Her teeth dug into the handle of the spoom, biting it with all her strength to keep herself from screaming aloud in pain. A loud crackling resounded in the air and then a large 'pop' echoed in the bathroom. A searing pain shot up her arm and she clenched down on the spoon harder while emitting a loud shrieking yelp. The handle of the kitchen utensil snapped in half and her jaw dropped slack as nausea rolled over her body. In her eyes, the pieces of the broken spoon handle fell to the ground in slow motion. Darkness clouded her vision and her head, her body slumped forwards, slid off of the toilet and crumpled into an unmoving heap on the floor.

On the other side of the world somewhere in Great Britain…

The raven-haired boy watched the herd of thestrals devouring the carcass of the unfortunate bull that had been felled for the group of mystical animals. Harry gave a small half smile as he watched a foal sniff at the corpse and jump back and snort loudly in shock as one of the adults nudged it while they feasted. The small winged horse creature trotted back to its mother and was content with the satisfying reddish milk that it received from the set of teats in between the mother thestrals flanks. His smile slowly melted back into the expressionless line on his face, his emerald eyes wandering through his herd, taking stock of their health. Magnus' leg was still swollen from that nundu attacking it, Harry noted to himself, he made a mental memo to ask Hagrid for a few herbs that would reduce the swelling of the thestrals leg. A nundu had taken up residence in the Forbidden Forest not too long ago and it had attempted to attack the lead stallion of the thestral herd (Magnus), it had narrowly escaped with only a bite wound to its front right foreleg. Hagrid had shot the large cat with his crossbow after the half giant had learnt that Harry's care of magical creatures project was in danger. He stood lost in thought for a few minutes, still watching his herd.

His hearing told him that cautious footsteps were approaching from behind him, turning slowly he met the eyes of an old man with a long silver beard tucked into his belt, a set of long billowing robes garbed the old man. His usually twinkling blue eyes held a serious and solemn look to them and his half moon spectacles had slid down his crooked nose, making him look down at the young man who was watching the thestral herd. "You're out here late Harry, what troubles you?" the man said as he approached the youth further. Harry was silent as the old man stopped at his side and watched the carcass of the bull being stripped of its flesh.

" My thestrals needed feeding Professor."

Harry said without looking up at the tall imposing figure of his headmaster. Suddenly all the confusion and frustration he held inside of his mind welled up and overflowed. "These premonitions have been getting clearer Professor, they are getting longer and more vivid. Why aren't we doing anything about the girl or Voldemort? You know he wants her back, we can't just stand here and wait for him to find her and kill her. We have to do something _now!_" Harry finally said, spilling out his anger to the wizened old wizard. Dumbledore didn't move or barely acknowledge the young man's outburst, he just watched the skin and muscle slowly disperse from the carcass in the middle of the small clearing in the forest. The foal had now settled down beside its feasting mother, it folded its ebony wings at its sides and closed its swirling milky eyes with a shuddering sigh. Dumbledore softly imitated that sigh but still did not look at his student.

"Harry, there are many things that you must begin to understand, no matter how hard they are to comprehend. Voldemort will not be able to use the girl until he knows that she bears the power that she is foretold to conceal, we know that he follows our every step. We cannot leave for her now, Voldemort's spies watch our every move. They will for sure notify him of our whereabouts when we come for the girl. If we leave in haste with no plan, it will jeopardize the lives of the girl and many others that surround her. Her guardian will protect her for now, I know I can count on Ceraphin. She will be fine." Dumbledore fell silent and looked down at Harry with a near emotionless face. Harry didn't return the gaze, his anger smoldered in the pit of his chest like a festering wound that was slowly rotting away the core of his heart. "The Order and I have decided that she is to be brought here sometime this month. You in the mean time," he said as he to face the young man, "Will stay here under my watch. We cannot afford to loose you if the girl is who she is said to be." The old wizard finished slowly, still watching his student with much worry. Harry nodded his head numbly as the professor finished, he didn't look up at the old wizard who stared down at him as a worried parent might look down upon a hormone crazed teen. The young man made no move as to look at his headmaster, Dumbledore took this as his cue leave the student alone with his thoughts. Without another word he turned from the boy and his thestral herd, an ambient yet grim look in his tired blue eyes.

Harry did not listen for the quiet retreating steps of his headmaster, he was lost in his own thoughts, mostly of the problem on hand at that certain point in time. How can I stand here when He is out there hunting Her? The same question ran through his mind, over and over like a cracked phonograph recording, it was turning over and over. His agitation was beginning to wrack what little sanity he thought he had left with in his head. His thoughts, constantly turning, changing, _mutating_ into those of Voldemort's.

He turned away from his herd, not really looking towards where he was going. His drifting thoughts stirred as he found himself outside the tapestry/door into Slytherin dorms. The minute version of an ogre on the tapestry growled and waved his club at the sight of Harry.

"Whats yer bussyniss intervadin by my taypestryer ye speenless Griffiedore?" growled the small ogre in a crude imitation of the English language, thumping the club on the ground sewn onto the tapestry.

"I've a desire to speak to Master Malfoy-"

"What do you want Potter?"

Harry was cut off as a drawling voice sounded out from behind him, the ogre on the tapestry jeered loudly and howled laughingly as Harry turned to see Malfoy standing behind him, garbed in _a dangerously small black_ _towel wrapped around his waist._

"head boy of Slythterin." Harry finished while raising am eyebrow in slight surprise at the scantily clad Slytherin standing in the middle of the cold dungeon halls, his pale skin slick and wet and his hair dripping in silver silken locks. Draco, whose face held no blush of embarrassment at the fact of being seen by his ex boyfriend wearing nothing but a meager scrap of terry cloth around his lithe hips, raised a sculpted eyebrow at his caller.

"So," he said while shooting a murderous glance over Harry's shoulder at the still crowing tapestry ogre, silencing its sickening, deep-throated chuckles, "What do you want Potter?" he said again as Harry stammered for a few split seconds at the spectacle in front of him,

"Uh…um…I uh…just wanted to say umn…hi?" he managed to stutter only at the beginning of the sentence. His gaze wandered down Draco's quidditch toned torso and further towards the slightly defined ridges of his stomach. He managed to wrench his gaze away from the splendor of the young mans pale skin before his eyes dipped below the small navel depression in between the rigid muscles and closer to what the terry cloth towel hid from sight. He averted his gaze back to the icy grey eyes that gazed at him with an expressionless notion. And instead of answering Harry's question, he merely walked past his would be rival and bent close to the tapestry and whispered the password into the pouting ogre, who sullenly nodded and picked up its club and scurried over towards a little bronze gong that was sewn into the tapestry. He drew back his club and swung it at the gong, which replied with a hiss that resounded in Draco's ears, but in Harry's, its sounded more like a word closely resembling that of '_enter_. The Gryffindor made a mental note of this in his mind, he found it highly ironic because there had only been two recorded Parseltounges in the whole history ( Hogwarts A History that is) of the school.

He and Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Draco stepped back from the tapestry, which fluttered for a few seconds, it then melted back onto the wall and became a simple mural that was actually painted onto the stone wall. A thick slab of the wall suddenly shifted and slid over to the right, revealing a short yet dank tunnel with a dim light at the end. There was a lit sconce on the wall that flickered with a draft that was seemingly procured out of no where. Draco moved forwards and took hold of the heavy iron sconce and lifted it from its bracket that was held securely against the wall with large and thick iron bolts. He turned and looked back at Harry and motioned the youth to follow him into the tunnel; which he did.

Harry followed the flickering flame of the sconce and the pale retreating back of Draco, Harry had been with the Slytherin to his prefect dorm, that was last year though and he could not remember where the secret alcove in the wall was. Suddenly the flames of the sconce disappeared and Harry was left in darkness, he stopped and waited for a few seconds and a hand grabbed at him from the left side of the tunnel. He let out a stifled note of surprise and was promptly pulled into the secret aclove that he had been looking for by a very disgusted Draco.

"I would have thought that after all the times we bedded together last year that you would have at least remembered where entrance to my room was."

He said in a low voice that was sort of strained and husky, Harry meekly looked down at his feet, or the black spot he presumed to be the location of his feet. The Slytherin looked at his ex before looking at the wall and finding the little thumb shaped imprint on the third stone from the wall and pushing his thumb into it gently so another stone portal opened in the wall and led them through into Draco's prefect dorm. Harry sidled into the room behind his scantily clad ex who hung the sconce on a bracket by his bed. The black towel was still wrapped around his slim pale hips. Harry choked back a moan, he remembered the taste of the sweat on that skin when he ran his tongue across it, it was intoxicating. He choked back another moan as the memory went through his mind. Draco shook the silver strands out from his eyes as he walked on padded feet over to where Harry was standing and stopped right in front of him. The Slytherin then dropped the small black towel from his grasp and, to Harry's surprise, wrapped his slim hands around Harry's face and pulled it towards his and kissed him.


End file.
